Dude, who ARE these people?
by Montana-Bob
Summary: In what could only happen in their odd little town, the boys discover that a huge number of people read and write fan fiction about them on the internet…including *gasp*…slash fiction. Rated T for language, violent character death (heh :) ) and sexual situations.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This story was inspired by a comment I made to another SP fan writer, Hollycomb, a couple days ago. I don't own South Park or any of its characters._

Saturday morning in an otherwise empty house. Stan and Kyle, still in pajamas after last night's sleepover, sat on the couch in Kyle's living room watching _Terrance and Phillip_ reruns, their twelve grade homework still sitting on the table untouched. They both told themselves they would get to it this weekend; for now it was mindless television while enjoying the afterglow from their latest sleepover. They still slept in the same bed even though they were both getting too big to fit in it comfortably. They both still sat on the couch with their thighs pressed together, their shoulders touching, and they still silently denied, both to themselves and to each other, that there was anything more to it than just something best friends did.

Their morning would have passed peacefully, the beloved old cartoon playing in the background as each simply enjoyed being in each other's presence. Unfortunately a commotion arose outside that put an end to that. Cartman's voice reached their ears like fingernails on a chalkboard, distant at first then getting higher and louder like some weird Doppler effect as he got closer: "You guys! Hey you guys!"

"Oh Christ, now what?" Stan moaned. They instinctively moved a couple inches away from each other, not even realizing they had done so. The door burst open and Cartman ran inside, sweating and panting. "You guys. Are not going to. Believe this," he panted. "I mean…just…"

"What is it now, fatass?" Kyle asked, clearly annoyed. He was hoping to have Stan to himself for the rest of the day, and this sounded like Cartman thought he was on to something really important that would probably turn out to be completely stupid instead.

"Give me a second to catch my breath," Cartman wheezed. "You guys…are NOT going to believe this. I ran all the way from my house."

"Oh what is that, like six houses?" Stan mocked him. "You sound like that fat kid in _Stand By Me. _He looked at Kyle and they both smiled and began singing: "I ran all the way home…"

"Screw you guys," Cartman said, eerily reminiscent of that movie scene. "You're so not going to believe this—"

"Okay, then what _is_ it?" Stan asked, hoping maybe they could get rid of him if they indulged him for awhile. He knew Kyle's parents would be gone with Ike until about 6:00, giving them several more hours of alone time together. He wanted Cartman gone as badly as Kyle did.

"Kyle!" Cartman said, trying to take charge now. "We need to use your computer. _Now _Kyle!" He started toward the stairs and went up, not even looking to see if they were following.

Stan and Kyle looked at each other. "We'd better go see what he wants, dude," Kyle said, and they stood up and went up the stairs behind Cartman.

Cartman already had Kyle's computer turned on and booting up. "Make yourself right at home Cartman," Kyle said sarcastically.

"Shut up Jew," Cartman said absently, not looking up from the monitor. "Come on. _Come onnn!"_

Cartman finally got a browser up, and as he punched in a URL in the address bar, he reiterated: "You guys are not going to believe this."

"This better be good, Cartman!" Stan said, looking with sudden interest at the site Cartman had brought up. A fan fiction site, what?

"Cartman, what the hell is this?" Kyle asked angrily.

"Right there!" Cartman said, pointing to a link on the page that read: _South Park (7,341)._ He moused over it and clicked it, then clicked one more link and stood back as the page loaded. "Read that! I told you that you wouldn't believe it."

They both began reading what was on the page. After only a few seconds, they were staring with amazement.

"Dude," Stan whispered, reading random words from the page aloud. "Kyle…Stan Marsh…South Park. What the _hell_ …this is a story about _us!_"

"That's nothing Marsh. There's _seven thousand, three hundred and forty one _stories about us…on just that one site alone. And there're other sites…"

"This has got to be some kind of a joke," Kyle said. "Why would anyone write about us?"

"And I'm afraid that's not all either," Cartman said, shouldering past them to seize the mouse and scroll down. When he found what he was looking for, he stood back again and said accusingly: "What do you guys have to say about _this_?"

Stan and Kyle read, and after a few seconds, Stan's jaw slowly began dropping open. He wasn't even aware of it happening. All the color drained from Kyle's face, making his red hair seem even brighter.

"Wait…what?!" Kyle cried. Reading aloud now, he said: "Kyle's tongue made slow lazy circles on the underside of Stan's cock, pausing as it reached the tip to lick a clear drop of—"

Stan bolted from the chair and barely made it to the waste basket beside Kyle's desk before he vomited. Kyle ignored this, reading quietly to himself now, a wild mixture of emotions—disgust, longing—warring with each other inside him.

"Dude… this is pretty fucked up, right here!" Stan finally mumbled, leaning miserably over the waste basket. He turned back, wiping his mouth, looking like he could be sick again at any moment. He had trouble looking either of them in the eyes.

"Cartman," Kyle said as Stan returned to the chair and sat next to Kyle again. "How in the hell did you find this?"

"I was looking for something for my 'local events' Social Studies homework, googled 'South Park' and found that." Cartman was starting to sound defensive. "It's not like I _wrote_ all this shit or anything."

"There has to be some sort of explanation," Kyle muttered, shaking his head slowly. I mean…dude, who _are _these people? Why would anyone want to read stories about…_us_?"

"I don't know, but we need to get to the bottom of it…and quickly." Cartman stood up, attempting to take charge; Kyle and Stan humored him. "This is what's going to happen next: I'm going to go find Kenny, bring him back here, and the four of us are going to stop at nothing to find out what's going on. You two need to get up to speed about what goes on in these stories about us. We have a _lot _to talk about here."

Stan and Kyle looked at each other, actually impressed. That seemed like a pretty solid plan. Obviously any hopes they'd had for super best friends' time had to be set aside while they worked on figuring out how this could possibly be happening.

As soon as Cartman had left, Kyle and Stan leaned over Kyle's computer, exploring this strange website. "I thought maybe Cartman came up with this as an elaborate joke, but I don't think so," Kyle said after a few minutes. "It looks like all 7,341 of those links really do lead to some sort of story about us, or at least about our town."

"Click that one there," Stan said, pointing, "the one before this page. It looked like an index page". When the page loaded, they read the first lines. "Look: That says 'relationships'…Stan/Kyle, Stan/Kyle…Kyle/Stan…"

"What the fuck!" Kyle said, pointing further down and now reading aloud himself: "Cartman/Butters. Kenny/Butters. Dude, no way! Kenny/Clyde!"

They spent the next 40 minutes clicking different links, reading a few sentences or paragraphs, then clicking to another. "Click that!" Stan suddenly said pointing, and a moment later they were on a message board for writers and fans. "This might at least give us some idea who these people are."

They read a few messages. "Okay, look at this here," Kyle pointed to one posting. It says that some of the stuff that happens in these stories are 'canon', like they're real. Like if one of these stories says your father is named Randy Marsh and he's a geologist, that's canon; if he's named John Marsh and he's a movie director, that's not canon. And it looks like us having all kinds of gay sex with each other isn't canon."

Stan didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. He said: "You'd better book mark that page to show Cartman. You might want to print it, too, in case we need to hand it out to everyone at school. Or else we'll never hear the end of this."

"Look," Kyle said a minute later, indicating a part of the page by circling the cursor with the mouse. "This doesn't make sense either. This says that us having sex with each other isn't 'canon' so when people are _writing_ about us having sex, they're writing stuff that isn't canon. But over here it said that Kenny dies like, almost every week or something and comes back, so when people put _that_ into their stories, they're writing canon too." He shook his head. "Excuse me…but I think I would remember Kenny dying on a semi-weekly basis!"

"It says over here that none of us remember it; he just dies and comes back the next day and everything goes on like nothing happened." He shook his head. "This is stupid! Kyle…what is going on?"

Kyle's cell phone rang, and he grabbed it off the table. "Maybe the four of us can figure out some answers." He flipped the phone open. "Cartman?"

"We'll be there in like ten minutes," Cartman's too loud digitally distorted voice boomed from the phone and Kyle held it away from his head. "I'm walking back now, and Kenny's coming the other way. He just left work. I told him to meet you guys there, that it was important."

"Okay, Cartman. Hurry up, and don't have a stroke or a heart attack before you get here." He hung up without waiting to hear Cartman's return insults.

(Just as he was hanging up, 32,000 feet above them an emergency was being declared aboard a commercial airliner. One of the cargo doors in the bottom of the plane had suddenly burst open due to indifferent maintenance, causing a rapid decompression in the cargo hold. Several pieces of luggage were sucked out as a result, including a cello case which hit the edge of the door on its way out. The case cracked open and was whisked out into the void, the cello it contained taking a more deliberate course downward, the long metal post on its bottom that it rested on while being played leading the way like an arrow.)

Kyle and Stan turned back to the computer. They read for a few minutes, but Kyle was restless. "Let's take a break, get into our clothes and go outside and get some fresh air."

"Sounds good, dude." Stan went to his overnight bag, retrieved some clothes and departed for the bathroom. Kyle pulled clothes from the closet and as he shed his pajamas, he couldn't help thinking about the stories he had just been reading alongside Stan.

He joined Stan in the hallway outside his bedroom and together they made their way downstairs and out the front door into the bright sunlight. It was quite windy. Cartman was just coming up the walkway, and they could see Kenny about a block away coming from the other direction.

Cartman started laughing as Kenny drew closer. "Hey you guys, watch this!" He held a single dollar up over his head. "Kenny, look!" he shouted. "Look, Kenny! A dollar!" He released the bill, and the wind caught it and blew it in Kenny's direction.

"Cartman, you're a dick!" Stan said angrily. Nonetheless, all three watched as, predictably, Kenny ran after it, crossing the street and running up onto someone's front yard to catch up to the dollar bill. All three were watching, all three saw the exact same thing…and none of them could believe what they saw.

Just as Kenny leaned over to pick up the dollar, a cello fell from the sky, its bottom post piercing his back, coming out his chest and plunging into the ground, pinning him. He made a couple loud angry, anguished sounds and then fell silent and motionless.

"_OH MY GOD!" _Kyle cried out in horror.


	2. Chapter 2

The next 36 hours passed by like a blur. Soon after Kenny had died, a crowd began to gather, and the ambulance and coroner came and removed Kenny's body, while Stan, Kyle and Cartman huddled together in numbed horror. As word of what happened began to spread, all three of their cell phones began ringing and after calling who they had to, they resorted to shutting them off to halt the constant ringing.

Cartman began growing more frantic, and when Liane arrived a few minutes later, he was utterly inconsolable, sinking to the ground when she rushed to him, blubbering about how it was all his fault. Stan and Kyle could only look on in anguish, finally helping her get Cartman to his feet to lead him away. After awhile, the crowd finally began dispersing, and they went back to Kyle's house.

"How does this _happen_ Kyle? How does a cello fall out of the sky and kill our friend?" Stan let go with a tortured cry and buried his face in his hands. Kyle held him from behind, rocking him and slowly Stan settled down.

"I called my parents," Kyle said, because he didn't know what else to say. "They were going to that convention thing with Ike…but they're turning around and coming right home. They'll be here in a couple hours."

Stan just nodded miserably. "I don't know if I can take this, Kyle." Kyle squeezed his arms tighter around Stan and they said nothing for a few seconds. Then Stan continued, voicing what they'd both been thinking. "And are we going to wake up tomorrow with no memory of that piece of metal going through Kenny's back like a spear?"

"I don't know, Stan. I…I just don't know." There was a timid knock at the front door. "Here we go, I guess." Kyle gave Stan's shoulder a squeeze and went to see who was at the door. It was Mr. Mackey, and Kyle stepped back to let him in.

"Boys, I just heard about what happened, M'kay?" he said, ducking his head a bit to fit it through the door. "I just want you to know…if you need to talk or anything, I'll be here for you…M'kay?"

"Thanks, Mr. Mackey," Kyle replied. "My parents will be home in a couple hours. We'll be okay until then."

"Do you need me to stay with you until then?" Mr. Mackey asked. He looked like he'd rather not.

"Mr. Mackey," Stan said from the chair where Kyle had left him. "Thanks. But…Kyle and I have known each other since we were in preschool. We've helped each other through some tough times before; we'll get through this too."

"M'kay, boys," Mr. Mackey said, ducking again to leave. "Let me know if you need anything." Kyle softly closed the door and returned to his place behind Stan, draping his arms over his shoulders.

"Maybe we should put a 'do not disturb' sign on the door?" Kyle suggested.

His parents arrived home a little later. By then Stan and Kyle had moved to the couch, sitting side by side leaning unashamedly against each other, staring at the silent television. Sheila rushed in the door first and headed straight for the boys, who stood for her embrace. Gerald and Ike came in behind her, looking somber.

"Boys, I'm so sorry about Kenny!" Sheila cried, hugging them both tightly. "That must have been awful."

"That's something I wish you hadn't of had to see," Gerald said, looking uncomfortably at his shoes. Ike hid his face against his father's leg.

Sheila released them from her embrace. "Stanley, your mother wants you to call her. She's worried about you; you're not answering your phone." Stan nodded and went to retrieve his phone, and she turned back to her son. "Kyle…" she said and a tear rolled down her cheek. There was nothing either of them could say right now to make things better.

Kyle sat back down on the couch, already missing Stan being next to him. He became aware of Stan's voice in the next room, sounding angry: "Mom, I just want to stay here!" He heard Stan close his phone, and a moment later he wandered back into the room and stood next to Kyle looking lost.

"Mom, if it's all right, we're going to go up to my room for awhile." Kyle stood alongside Stan, deliberately bumping his shoulder. Sheila looked uncertain, but she nodded.

"Thanks, Kyle," Stan said when they had closed the door to Kyle's room and it was just them again. "That had all the earmarks of something that was going to get intense."

"I know." They sat on the edge of Kyle's bed, automatically sitting as close as possible to each other.

After awhile, Kyle said: "I can't stop thinking about those fucking _noises _he made right before he died," and Stan winced. "It was like he was angry, like 'oh, not this again—"

"Kyle, no! That stuff is crazy talk. I know, I know…I read it too. But…it's just crazy. He's not going to suddenly come back from the dead and we're going to go to school on Monday like nothing's happened. I just…can't believe that."

They fell into another sad silence, while the shadows got longer outside. There was another knock on the door. Kyle sighed and got up and opened it. It was Gerald, holding a tray with two plates on it. Kyle stepped back to let him in, and Gerald set the tray on Kyle's dresser.

"Sheila talked to your mother, Stanley. You can stay here as long as you want to." Gerald backed up toward the door. "Let us know if you need anything." Kyle closed the door and sat beside Stan again, both of them ignoring the food.

They finally began talking into the night, reminiscing about times with Kenny. There were lots of "remember whens?" as they picked listlessly at the food (cold fried chicken and potatoes with gravy) some hours later. Before they knew it, it was Sunday morning, and the day passed much like yesterday did, in a hazy series of endless interruptions followed by them sitting or lying alone together, either talking quietly, crying, or just silently taking comfort in each other's presence.

Late in the afternoon, Kyle left for a few minutes to sneak downstairs to get them some snacks. When he returned, he told Stan that he overheard his father say that he had already spoken to Kenny's parents and they planned to sue the airline.

"Good!" Stan said. "I hope they win…but if I got a bunch of money, I wouldn't miss Kenny any less." They picked sadly at the snacks Kyle had brought up, and by the time 36 hours had passed and it was night again, they were both finally exhausted, but neither wanted to sleep.

"I just don't know, Stan." Kyle had been weepy for the past hour as exhaustion along with his grief overwhelmed him. "I don't know if I can take this." He buried his face in Stan's chest and cried.

"Kyle, this is what we need to do." Stan tipped Kyle's head back by his chin and looked him in the eye. "We haven't slept in two days. Kenny's dead…but we still need to sleep. Let's…lay down together. I think if we can get some shut eye, we'll feel better."

Kyle nodded, looking utterly broken. Taking off only their shoes, they laid down together, Kyle on his side, Stan behind him with his arms around him, spooning him. After awhile, Stan had to move his hips back so Kyle wouldn't know he was becoming aroused. Stan felt ashamed for feeling this way now of all times, and he pressed his face between Kyle's shoulder blades, breathing in his smell. "Is this okay?" he asked softly.

Kyle nodded. "Yes. Thank you." He squeezed Stan's arms. "I think I might be able to sleep now."

"Me too." And Stan felt himself drifting off. Kyle lay there, listening to Stan's breathing get slower and deeper. He felt safe for the moment, like he could get through the next minute without crying. He thought he might be able to feel that way forever, if he could just stay here like this.

He felt himself drifting off, like dropping into a deep well. He was safe as long as Stan was there with his arms around him, and he knew Stan wasn't going anywhere. He was walking through a perfectly round tunnel whose walls were entirely white. He didn't want to walk down this tunnel, but he couldn't help it. He came to an entrance to another place and was equally helpless to not enter it. He saw with no surprise at all that he was being led by Lemmiwinks, their fourth grade class gerbil that Mrs. Garrison back when she was still Mr. Garrison had stuck up Mr. Slave's ass in an attempt to sue the school system. He wasn't surprised to find that he had shrunk to the size of the gerbil, nor was he surprised when he realized where he was, or why it smelled so bad.

No, he was only surprised when a large glowing frog appeared ahead of him, floating a few inches off the floor of Mr. Slave's colon like a bizarre cartoon apparition. The frog was dressed in a purple robe and wore a crown and carried a shining gold scepter. Even when the frog began to speak, the only thing that Kyle didn't get and it was a question that ran through his mind like a mantra: _Why is it a frog? Why is it a goddamn frog?_

"All of the canon must be respected in BOTH worlds, young Kyle!" the frog-apparition intoned solemnly. "If part of the canon is ignored in one world, then all the canon will die in BOTH worlds, like your friend Kenny!" The frog leaned closer to Kyle, holding up his scepter. "You know what you must do, young Kyle, to save your friend—" and Kyle wanted to shout that NO, he didn't know, but he was jerked roughly from this dream by Stan's sudden thrashing and cry of fear behind him. The room was dark now; Gerald or Sheila must have turned the light off while they were asleep.

"Jesus Christ!" Stan moaned, breathing into Kyle's back. "I'm so sorry! I just had the most fucked up dream. I was inside Mr. Slave's rectum, and a giant frog started talking to me, about the canon—"

"Must be respected. In both worlds, young Kyle," Kyle finished for him. "I just had the same dream!"

"It called me young Stanley…but. Yeah. What else did it say?" Stan asked, desperately trying to remember before the memory of that messed up dream unraveled. "If part of the canon is ignored…"

"In one world," Kyle finished, and then they both went on together. "then all the canon will die in both worlds…like our friend Kenny." Stan reached up and turned on Kyle's lamp and they squinted at the light.

"He said I had to save my friend," Stan said. "And that I knew what I had to do. But I don't! Oh God Kyle, what does this mean?"

"All right. We had the exact same dream, at the exact same time. Obviously someone is trying to tell us something. 'All the canon'" Kyle's brows furrowed as he tried to puzzle this out. "In BOTH worlds…like maybe the real world, _our_ world…and the worlds in those stories." Kyle sat up suddenly as if he'd been struck. "Dude, I think I've figured it out!"

"What is it?"

"I think…someone is trying to tell us, that if we ever want to see Kenny alive again, we're supposed to have sex with each other!"


	3. Chapter 3

Neither of them spoke for several seconds after that. Stan finally broke the silence.

"You know…as messed up as everything is right now, and no matter how ridiculous the path to that conclusion was…I can't find a single flaw in your reasoning."

"It's canon in their world that we have sex, and according to those stories it's canon in our's that Kenny comes back after he dies. If we ignore their canon, then Kenny won't come back." He looked away, at the mattress. "If we're going to do this...for Kenny...I'd like to start like this."

Kyle laid back down again, pushing his back against Stan and pulling Stan's arm across his chest again. He wanted things to be back the way they were a minute ago, only with them awake now, not sharing a dream about being the size of rodents talking to a glowing Frog Prince about canon in short stories, conveniently ignoring the fact that this discussion was taking place inside of someone's ass.

The fact that the bedroom light was on again was a huge plus, too. Kyle knew his life was about to change forever; even if he and Stan were together ("for Kenny") only one time, the memory would be seared into his consciousness and nothing would ever be able to measure up to it. He was nervous, he wanted to get started, but he also never wanted it to end. If he could just lay here like this with Stan's arm around him forever, nothing bad would ever happen again.

Stan seemed content to lie this way again as well. He discovered that he was brave enough now to let himself caress Kyle's fingers. The awful weirdness of that dream they had shared was fading, and they were safely back in the familiar place of Kyle's bedroom, in the bed they'd shared at least a couple times a month since they were eight, that was now too big to hold one person comfortably, let alone them both. Stan let his fingers marvel at how smooth Kyle's nails were, brushing his fingertips against each one gently.

"I'm not sure what we should do now," Kyle said, his fingers now replying to Stan's fingers by darting playfully through them. "Any ideas?"

"Sorry, no." Stan replied. "I'm afraid I left my copy of _How To Have Sex With Kyle Broflovski For Dummies _at home."

That remark was so unexpected that Kyle actually laughed for a moment, releasing it happily against Stan's bicep. It felt really good for a moment; then he remembered that Kenny was dead, and he stopped and sighed.

Stan allowed his fingertips to move gently underneath Kyle's shirt, only near his waist at first as if waiting for permission to do more, exploring areas he had only dreamed of exploring before. Kyle's skin was so unbelievably soft. "We have to be able to laugh again someday, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. It's just now doesn't seem the time—"

"Or else everything will be shitty again," Stan went on as if he wasn't through talking yet. "And we'll all walk around unhappy, thinking everything we eat tastes like shit, and everything we hear sounds like shit, and you can work your way through the other three senses, wondering when a cello is going to fall out of the sky and kill you." When he felt Kyle stiffen against him, he hugged him tighter and said, "Never again, dude. I made you a promise. You know that."

Kyle wrapped his fingers around Stan's wrists. "I know." They lay still for awhile, neither of them sure of what they should be doing, wondering if they were technically 'having sex' yet. Kyle suddenly rolled over onto his back, and then rolled over again so he was facing Stan, his face buried against his chest.

"You know…this won't be so bad," Kyle whispered.

Something that had been simmering inside Stan for most of his life boiled over inside of him. His grief for Kenny, the fact that he had just watched someone he'd known for most of his life die horribly, his utter exhaustion, and now this last comment from Kyle, finally tipped him over.

"This. Won't. Be. So. Bad," Stan whispered back, his voice suddenly sounding angry. Kyle pulled away to look at his face. "Stan?"

"Kyle?" Stan said, mocking him, and realized he was on the edge of lashing out angrily, perhaps breaking something. He hugged Kyle closer instead. "Kyle, don't you know? Haven't I made it obvious enough?" Stan was crying again, so unexpectedly that Kyle couldn't begin to figure out what was wrong now. "Don't you know that I've been in love with you since we were both like ten years old?"

Stan stared down at the abyss that had suddenly opened up before him. Those words now spoken could never be taken back. The genie was out of the bottle now and could smite him into that yawning hole otherwise known as life without Kyle so deep that he could never climb out again.

"And even if you don't feel the same way, that's okay, I can survive that. But if you tell me that what I just said to you means that we can't be friends anymore, Kyle, I swear to God I will throw myself on my sister's clarinet and join Kenny, or I'll take every word of it back, or whatever you need me to do, because I just couldn't—"

"Stan, _hush!_" Kyle hugged him tight, his hands going to the back of Stan's head to press his face to his chest. He would have silenced him quicker, but the words Stan had been pouring out were what Kyle had been yearning to hear for as long as he could remember. He just couldn't stand to see Stan hurting another moment.

Minutes slipped away, while they listened to each other's hearts beating. "Since you were ten, huh?" Kyle whispered.

"Yeah."

"I think you may have held out a little bit longer than I did."

"Oh thank God," Stan whispered, barely, and Kyle knew he wasn't supposed to have heard that. Stan had meant that only for himself, spoken as he felt that awful abyss close.

They snuggled closer and Stan let out a deep breath. Kyle's whole world seemed to have stopped; aside from Stan, there was nothing else in it now. They held each other for a long while, listening to the first winter storm of the season getting underway outside, blowing freezing rain against the window.

"Sex with me for dummies, huh?" Kyle finally whispered. "That had better be the only copy of that book."

"Oh Kyle…I think mine was something like the twelfth printing."

They lay still for a moment, and Stan became aware that the silent shaking of Kyle's shoulders was him trying not to laugh. He lost that battle with himself and shuddered, trying to hide his face against Stan's shoulders. "Ohh…" Kyle moaned when his shoulders quit shaking for a moment. "No…not now…"

"I think Kenny would approve," Stan said and Kyle clutched at his shirt collar.

"Oh, I know he would!" Kyle burst out, and buried his face in the safe place of Stan's chest. He was suddenly laughing like he hadn't in what seemed like a very long time. Stan tried to kiss him, and suddenly they were both giggling too hard to make that possible. They settled for wrapping their arms around each other and laughing into each other's necks, having to work at not unleashing a fit of hysteria that would wake up the entire house.

"We shouldn't be laughing like this." Kyle said during a moment when he found enough self control to put a sentence together. He tried to push away from Stan. "It's too soon or something."

"Yes, we should be." Stan pulled him close again. "Remember who we're doing this for." Then they were kissing, their first real kiss even though they were both hanging by a thread from plunging into uncontrolled hysteria.

"Aren't we supposed to have lube for this or something?" Kyle fretted. "I just know we're going to do this wrong. God I wish you had that book with you. Shit, I wish it was a real book; I wonder if we can use toothpaste-"

"Kyle: _Hush_." They stared at each other, surprised and smiling at Stan's imitation of Kyle a minute ago. "Get a grip!"

"Okay. Sorry." He clearly wasn't sorry, as his face continued to betray that he was one weak moment away from a laugher meltdown. "You ready to try kissing me again yet?"

"Uh huh…no more laughing." They looked at each other earnestly now, and they both drew closer, their lips getting ready. Just before they reached each other, Stan said: "Besides, I don't want your Colgate tartar control gel anywhere near any part of me except my teeth."

Kyle snorted, and lost it again, giving in to wild laughter which he hid in Stan's neck. "Stan…" he hissed. "Cut it out!"

Stan wrapped his fingers around Kyle's head gently and drew his face toward him and kissed him for real, and just like that they were finished laughing. They kissed, their hands reaching into each other's shirts to feel bare skin. "I wish we'd taken three minutes to put our pajamas on earlier," Stan complained. "This would be a lot easier."

"This, from the man who was willing to throw himself on his sister's clarinet for me." They really were done laughing now, and there was just the urgency in each other to get their clothes off. They removed some of their own clothes and some of each others, hesitating at the moment when the final scraps of clothing were about to come off, and then casting them off as well and gazing longingly at each other…and finally they laid together again, face to face, every part of them exposed to each other now with nothing in the way.

"Jesus, Kyle," Stan moaned. "You're beautiful," and they clung together.

"Do you think we'll know if we're doing this right?" Stan asked, and Kyle nodded.

"Yes, I do. I think we'll be a couple of amateurs at first, but we'll get better. But this will be right too." Kyle reached between Stan's legs. "Do you know how I know?"

Stan gasped. "How?"

Kyle smiled. "Because it's canon now. Our canon." They lost themselves in another kiss, and Kyle whispered, "Oh God this feels good."

What they were doing felt good, and when they really got going it felt even better. It was awkward at first, then bolder and more confident. It was tender. It was intense groans and yearning. It was sloppy and wet and slightly degrading. It was long looks, either into each other's eyes, or at the top of each other's heads as one of them did something especially intimate to the other. It was the most amazing thing either of them had ever done.

It was Kyle stopping in the middle of doing something intense, rearing back to straddle Stan's thighs while he lay on his back looking up at Kyle worshipfully, as Kyle suddenly broke into a typical but weirdly timed Kyle soliloquy.

"You know…I learned something today," Kyle whispered, and Stan groaned. "I learned that whatever life throws our way, there's always something better coming. You just have to know how to hang in there, and who to hang in there with." Stan was barely hanging in there, wanting Kyle back in his arms again, doing what he had been doing a moment ago with his hands and mouth. But he knew better than to interrupt now.

"And I learned that someone once wrote some timeless prose about us, that I memorized this morning that went like this." Kyle recited slowly, staring at Stan, who could only stare back helplessly: "Kyle's tongue made slow lazy circles on the underside of Stan's cock, pausing as it reached the tip to lick a clear drop of—"

He stopped speaking, and Stan moaned. It was all he could do to play along. "Jesus Kyle, what happened next?"

"That's something I _didn't _learn today…because you interrupted by throwing up in my waste basket. We may never know what happened next."

"Oh God Kyle…can't you extrapolate or something?"

"No." Kyle shook his head sadly and looked down at him. "I'm afraid I can't."

"Then we can do an experiment…" and Kyle decided that was enough and took pity on him and bent down to give him what he wanted. He wanted to try the slow lazy circle thing with his tongue, but Stan's overtaxed body had other plans and Kyle was more than happy to oblige him, Stan's muffled cries of ecstasy music to his ears.

And finally it was them wrapping themselves around each other so closely that they could barely tell where one of them ended and the other began. It was their shared warmth underneath the blankets while they finally drifted off to much needed sleep without dreams. And it was _right._


	4. Chapter 4

Once it started getting light outside, neither of them wanted to stay in bed and cuddle. "We've been cuddling for hours," Kyle said and Stan agreed. It felt to him like everything he will ever see from now on would be like looking at it for the first time. "Let's go outside and watch the sun come up."

They climbed from Kyle's bed to get dressed, each sneaking admiring glances at the other. Stan packed all his extra clothes into his overnight bag. "I guess I probably won't be spending the night here again tonight."

"Yeah," Kyle said sadly. "But after two nights, you might want to check in with your parents, make sure they still remember you." Kyle could sense his disappointment. "But you know…I'm pretty sure I'm going to need some help with my homework later. Say around 4:30?"

Stan smiled, lifting his overnight bag. "Sounds good, dude. What kind of homework?"

"Geez Stan, what kind do you think? Naked homework."

Stan shook his head smiling. "Kyle…you're amazing. I love you! And I bet we won't get a bit of studying done."

"I love you too." They hugged one more time, kissing deeply and holding each other longingly. "Let's go," Kyle finally breathed into Stan's mouth, and reluctantly they pulled away from each other. They quietly made their way down the stairs, grabbed their jackets as they went out the front door and walked down the driveway. Last night's storm had left about an inch of wet slush, and their squishy footsteps through it were the only sound. The sun was just starting to come up, the horizon beginning to turn orange.

They paused when they reached the street. "That's a beautiful sunrise," Kyle said. It wasn't really, in fact it was pretty ordinary with no clouds in the sky. He laughed a moment later. "Actually it's not, is it? In fact, it's pretty lame."

"It's beautiful if you're here," Stan said. "Oh Jesus, that was corny." They laughed and started walking up the street, not talking for awhile, just enjoying each other's company. Stan thought that it could be raining, snowing, dropping meteorites…and as long as Kyle was with him, it would be beautiful.

Kyle finally broke the silence. "Stan, I've been wracking my brain for the last five minutes now. Why did we do it? Last night I mean. After all these years, last night, why did we…" His voice trailed off.

"Have sex with each other?" Stan said, smiling.

"Yeah. That. Thank you. But I mean," Kyle rushed on before Stan could interrupt him, wanting to explain everything he was feeling. "I don't regret it for a second; I hope we have sex with each other every day for the rest of our lives. And…in between the times that we're having sex with each other, I hope we keep making each other better people than we would be if we were just by ourselves. And when you're sick, Stan, I'll bring you chicken soup in bed, and stick around to make sure you eat it. And when I'm sick, you can just lay next to me and hold me in those amazing arms of yours and I'll be all right. I think you can save me from anything the world throws my way."

Stan was listening to him, hanging on every word he said, as Kyle continued. "But Stan…why did it happen last night? Maybe I was just having really weird dreams, but it seems like we had a reason for finally doing it last night…like we needed to save the world, or at least a very important part of it."

"I think we quit saving the world when we were about ten years old, Kyle," and Kyle nodded. "But if it took something you dreamed to finally make it happen, then I just wish you had had that dream years ago."

Kyle reached out a gloved hand and gently brushed one of Stan's, just for a moment. They weren't ready yet to hold hands outdoors, but they felt close enough that it was like they were holding hands, even when they weren't touching each other.

"I had a dream too," Stan said. "Nothing about saving the world, though. This was something about a giant talking frog…who could play the cello or something. It was pretty fucked up."

"Looking for symbolism in that?" Kyle asked, smiling.

"No…just a stupid dream." A movement off in the distance caught Stan's eye, and he smiled. He looked Kyle directly in the eyes and said: "Okay, you have to trust me now and don't look away. I'm going to save you from a little piece of the world right now. Someone's coming." Kyle nodded that he understood. "You have about thirty seconds to say to me everything you need to now…before we meet later to do our…_homework._"

Kyle's eyes bored into him. "Just…I love you, Stan. I think I always have…and I know I always will, at least for another eight billion years or so, when the sun finally explodes. After that…we'll just have to wait and see."

Stan grinned. "I guess that will do. I love you too, Kyle." Their eyes burned into each other. "And…we have to change the subject now." The sound of footsteps plodding through the wet slush finally reached them. Stan nodded at Kyle, letting him know he was free to turn around now. They turned to look at the familiar figure, huddled inside an orange parka that all but completely covered his face to keep him warm.

From inside the parka: "Hey guys."

Stan and Kyle said in unison: "Hey Kenny!"

THE END


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